I had the distinct pleasure of writing about our VP the other day, who has a house in one of the towns I cover. Rummy has a house right next to him. I imagine Bush and Condi will move here shortly, so they can hold Stratego tournaments along the waterfront. For some reason, however, I don't imagine Rep. John Murtha will be joining them.

In any case, the Secret Service and the FAA imposed a "temporary" flight restriction zone around Cheney's home, which is in effect all the time and has no expiration date. Pilots wishing to fly under 1500 feet had better not do so over Cheney's home. After all, this is the man who is campaigning for torture.

The flight restriction is not all that big of a deal in itself, although it is definitely further-reaching than these type of things normally go. The cool part of the story, I thought, was talking to a Secret Service spokesman.

Yes, the SS has a spokesman, an apparently blatant contradition. The conversation with him went something like you would probably think it would. "I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to discuss that." "I can't comment on that." "Something vague and guarded." It was great because I knew he couldn't answer my questions, but it was fun to ask them nonethess—sort of like clowning around in front of a Buckingham Palace guard. It also made me realize this guy has the easiest job in the world, and one Drew Rosenhaus could slip into nicely after retiring as an agent.

That day also brought about the humorous occasion where a press secretary told me, "Off the record, I don't have any information." So what, on the record, you have lots of information? The hell? You just make it up when the cameras come on?

Allright, I'm off to fly my by-plane at low altitudes over Dick's house. Whose house? Dick's house. Say what? I said whose house? Dick's house.